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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007306">Feelings Aquiver</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/afflatussolace/pseuds/afflatussolace'>afflatussolace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>where you go fate will surely follow [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Feelings Realization, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Love Confessions, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Sort Of, also mentions of another ocxhaurchefant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/afflatussolace/pseuds/afflatussolace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Time does nothing to soothe his wayward heart.</p>
<p>Reuploaded from my <a href="https://whitherliliesbloom.tumblr.com/post/628088868575592448/all-that-i-am">blog</a>. For the ffxivwrite2020 event held on tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphinaud Leveilleur/Original Character(s), Alphinaud Leveilleur/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>where you go fate will surely follow [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feelings Aquiver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt #02 - Sway<br/><i>"to cause something to move or change"</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div>Certainly, a diplomat knew better than anyone else that words sometimes held more power than the razor edge of a sword. What mountain can be moved by a mere one man alone? And what nation was built upon the lack of communication?<p>He thrived on the sway his words could have, the power to shape the future as he so chose by the skillful flay of his own tongue. </p>
<p>And yet as much as he was a man of a thousand words, so too were his compatriots as they witnessed his embarrassingly tongue-tied state in the presence of a single, equally silent lalafellin girl. </p>
<p>Alphinaud had thought little of this heartburn when it first manifested, and naively brushed off the remarks Ysayle and Estinien would make as the group huddled around a crackling fireplace. His eyes had lingered upon her, curled up over a timeworn tarp as the chilly dravanian wind made her bangs lightly sway. She’d clutched tightly onto a fire aspected crystal upon her chest, but he finds the furrowing of his brows not to be a consequence of envy over her source of warmth, but worry. </p>
<p>“Fancy the Warrior of Light, do you?”</p>
<p>Estinien was the first ever to realize - even when he himself had been terribly oblivious to the incessant throbbing of his chest. And when the young elezen dared to express his denial, words spoken carelessly in a feeble stammer, Ysayle could not help but to chime in with her own words.</p>
<p> “It is true that you do seem oddly drawn to her.”</p>
<p>It will never feel odd to remember the way upon which Estinien and Ysayle first shared their first moment of comradery over their shared beliefs in feelings Alphinaud had not even realized he possessed, and even more strange would be the echoes of those sentiments from every corner of his life from then on.</p>
<p>“Have you not told her how you feel, Master Alphinaud?” </p>
<p>Even bedridden as he was, it did not stop the patient from beaming enthusiastically up at his flushed visitor. And had it not been for the unspoken etiquette of keeping silence within an infirmary, he would have certainly proclaimed his lack of intent. It’s evident no near death experience would stop Haurchefant from exerting his own pressure onto his flustered, inexperienced junior.</p>
<p>That perhaps was for the better, for a pair of mismatched eyes parked permanently by the knight’s side glared such daggers Alphinaud believed for a moment it’d split his skull apart. </p>
<p>“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell her! What happens if — s-something happens? And then you’ll never get to tell her at all — “</p>
<p>The absurdity of Laurelis’ spontaneous fountain of tears had done wonders, at least in the way of causing Alphinaud to feel an insurmountable amount of guilt. He had not come to be lectured, nor did he expect to leave the infirmary actually having the ridiculous notion of considering their words seriously. And yet he did, and unwillingly took the almost tragic way his friends’ romance had nearly ended as example for his need for urgency. </p>
<p>Nidhogg’s death taught him to self-reflect, beyond crippling guilt he’d have to drown out with a swig of piping hot tea, that is. And beyond the specks of red that left a painful trail of memories amongst a sea of snow white. </p>
<p>But there was always a tender violet hue, a glistening of lavender and mauve stars that shone up and reflected within their crystalline glow his hopes and dreams in life so brightly that he was always momentarily blinded from his shortcomings. And that songbird voice always called his name so sweetly, so innocently. He never knew when he’d started becoming reliant on that euphony to push himself further, to become more than he already was.</p>
<p>He’s come to accept his worsening heart condition, and yet could not help but wonder if it was fine to let it fester in her presence. Perhaps he’d let himself heal with ignorance, a cold shoulder, and ridiculous beliefs that someone of her talent and status could never understand or feel the same as him.</p>
<p>Alisaie would have none of that. Her voice and words, even to this day, remain the loudest and most grating of them all.</p>
<p>“I caught you staring at her! You aren’t fooling anyone, you know. Well, except for her.. How in the twelve are you two so bloody stupid?!”</p>
<p>Dearest sister always claimed to not be as good with words as he was. Quicker to draw the blade than she was a quill, she was. But she’s spoken a million words more than he about his feelings, echoed his heartbeat as if it had been completely unrestrained. She saw no point in his need for secrecy, and it always felt as if she’d pressure everyone else they knew into saying the same.</p>
<p>“You two are always staring at each other like a married couple, aren’t you? Nobody would ever believe the pair of you aren’t an item.”</p>
<p>He prays desperately whenever Elletha is present to hover around beside them, believing if anyone were to tell the cause of his unstable heart the truth of his feelings. </p>
<p>“Do ya plan on keeping her in the dark forever??”</p>
<p>Even a certain dragoon, a woman whose motto had been to thrust her spear quicker than she was to stop and think had begun to pressure him, looming over his left shoulder like a dark cloud as Alisaie pressed over his right. They’d formed a formidable team indeed, passing snide remarks if they caught his gaze lingering upon the back of silken long white hair for even a second too long. </p>
<p>Yet like the lovesick fool he was, he could not bring himself to swear off looking at her, or thinking of her for that matter. He was certain he’d die from the palpitations of his wayward heart, regardless of the words his friends, and his own conscious would spout out at him. </p>
<p>What was more painful? He’d asked himself.. Tearing apart the trust and friendship he’d painstakingly built with the most wonderful woman alive, a woman he’d hurt and mistreated once so many shameful summers ago.. or to swallow his heart whole and let himself stew in this aching sensation, hearing nothing but ‘what ifs’ clog every corner of his mind. </p>
<p>“If you wait too long, Alphinaud.. you may one day be too late to regret it.”</p>
<p>Tataru was always more sensible than he, despite what his qualifications would have one believe. She’d been telling him these very words in too many different rhymes and rhythms than he could count, worried more about the state of his basically nonexistent romantic status than she had been even her own. The secretary was pushy, almost as much so as his sister had been.</p>
<p>And yet she also understood him, stood by him as long as the Warrior of Light had. She’d watched his transformation, the metamorphosis of what was once the slight skip of his heartbeat into an unbearable, terminal and crippling enamor. And she’s seen what a broken heart looked like, saw what men and women wreaked with guilt became, and heard their helpless cries that always echoed their regrets of being too late.</p>
<p>Alphinaud had nearly became that man, he was certain of that when he’d arrived to the House of the Fierce only to find the Warrior of Light missing and heard of her plans to confront the Imperial Legatus. </p>
<p>He had thought his days of taking her strength and willpower for granted over, two whole summers over. Ravana, Bismarck and Niddhogg had not taught him a single thing, nor did the warnings of his friends that rang louder in his ear than ever before. And he was going to pay for it with the death of his heart he could have prevented had he just spoken. </p>
<p>He knew not how many second chances fate would grant him, pleaded woefully despite knowing his lack of a right to. But he continued to pray anyway, and he swore upon the words he was told by everyone his life, past, present and future that he’d craft words of his own for once. What good was a diplomat who could not speak? What good were words when they were left unspoken?</p>
<p>The Warrior of Light survived. Barely, but she survived and escaped. The dark gash over her collar bone still haunts him to this day, a reminder of when he’d nearly lost everything. But it was also a reminder of the first words he’d spoken from his heart to her, ones that allowed him to witness the swirling of those violet nebulas before him closer than ever, and to hear his favorite melody whisper her own words of sugar into his ear. </p>
<p>Yanxia was hardly the most scenic place for a confession. Had Alphinaud the choice, he would have most certainly chosen somewhere more picturesque, presented the girl with a large bouquet of her favorite floral arrangement, dressed to the nines and with eyes that weren’t clearly bloodshot from his earlier shedding of tears. </p>
<p>He’d at the very least prepared a script, mentally written and rewritten his lengthy prose addressed to her so many times over he’d memorized what he wanted to say word for word.</p>
<p>But he’s left transfixed as he stares at her, and sees his future staring right back at him. Alphinaud is left speechless once more, like the foolish, failure of a negotiator he is. And all he can think of saying is what the little cracks of his heart has wanted to say for so, so long now.</p>
<p>“I love you, Illya.”</p>
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